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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756482">I've got a list of names and yours is in red</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves'>for_the_love_of_wolves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abduction, Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Death Threats, M/M, No Character Death, Post-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Restraints, Threats of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:55:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26756482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_the_love_of_wolves/pseuds/for_the_love_of_wolves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris wakes up in the burned out Hale house, tightly bound to a chair. He has been expecting something like this ever since he found out Kate was behind the fire, so he is not surprised when Peter shows up and tells Chris that now, he has to kill him too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chris Argent/Peter Hale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949101</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I've got a list of names and yours is in red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Whumptober Day 1: Waking up restrained.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chris wakes up tightly bound to a chair. </p><p>He wakes up with a pounding headache and the vague thought that this was bound to happen sometime. Somehow. Somewhere.<br/>
<br/>
He blinks, his surroundings still blurry, but the smell of ash clear and daunting. It gives him an idea of his whereabouts.<br/>
<br/>
And of course it is going to happen here. Here, in the charred carcass of the Hale house.<br/>
<br/>
Chris experimentally tenses against the ropes, feeling for any weaknesses. There aren’t any. He recognizes the knots. Knows who watched him doing them more than one time. In the forest.<br/>
<br/>
As if on cue, a voice cuts through the silence, making Chris flinch.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you remember the time you tried these knots out on me? When you were panicking about that they might not be good enough for your father? I allowed you to do it. It gave me a little thrill. Of course, I could have broken them. But you … You can’t, can you Christopher? Does it give you a thrill now?” Peter asks, approaching Chris with slow deliberate steps, his head cocked to the side and eyes bleeding red.<br/>
<br/>
Chris feels himself going boneless on the chair. No, he can’t break the ropes. And maybe, some part of him doesn’t even want to. He looks up at Peter, who is so different yet still somewhat familiar. </p><p>The light in the house is dim, but the moon is bright enough to reveal the landscape of scars on Peter’s face.<br/>
<br/>
“You should not have come back,” Peter tells him, with something heavy in his voice that might either be regret or annoyance, “not now. Now … I think I have to kill you too.” </p><p>Chris doesn’t even feel scared at that. He just feels … numb. “You know I have a daughter, don’t you?” he asks.  </p><p>Peter’s expression drips with indifference, but he does shift his weight. “I know. I had two little nieces at the age of five and six. I had a nephew who was a few weeks old. I had a sister, a brother, a brother in law and one aunt and more. They all died here,” he gestures, “Here in this house. I watched them passing out one by one, choking on smoke. I saw my sister’s hair catching fire, before I did too. Your sister’s work.” </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Chris says. Because he is. He has been sorry forever. Stiles telling him Kate - his Katie, the girl he once held in his arms when she was a baby, the girl he swore to protect, the girl who grew up to become a woman who he wanted to trust with Ally - was responsible for the fire pulled the rug out from under his feet. “I’m sorry, Peter.” </p><p>That does get a reaction out of Peter. He grimaces. “Don’t say that,” he hisses, his eyes gleaming again, “you have no right to say that.” </p><p>And in front of Chris’ eyes, he partly shifts. But not like in the past. There is no controlled drop of fangs and claws. Instead, the wolf seems to just jump forward abruptly, trying to jump out of Peter, whose face contorts for a moment, forming a grotesque image of a snout before snapping back to human.</p><p>Peter groans and takes a few deep breaths like he is trying to calm down. He comes close enough for Chris to see the glimmer of insanity in his eyes. “Did you know? Did you know about her plans?” </p><p>Chris looks Peter right in the eyes and firmly says, “No.”<br/>
<br/>
Peter tilts his head and Chris knows he is listening to his heartbeat, trying to sense the lie. But there is no lie. Only the truth. </p><p>Peter growls in irritation and backs away. “I should still kill you,” he spats, his fangs protruding. </p><p>“I sure deserve it,” Chris says quietly. “For not being there. Maybe … I could have done something."</p><p>Peter stares at him, his eyes still filled with irritation, but also something much softer and more painful. “I tried to call you, you know?” he says tonelessly, “when I realized there was no way out. I tried to call you, but you must have changed your number after you left.”<br/>
<br/>
Chris swallows around the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. I really am. So incredibly sorry. If … If there was anything I could do to change the past, I would.” </p><p>Peter looks down on him, his face stony. “If you care so much, why weren’t you there? Why did you abandon me just like they did? Derek and Laura … My Alpha left me. The last pack bonds I had disappeared. Why didn’t you show up? Your sister did, you know?” Peter’s face contorts in rage. “She was there, sometime. Telling me how much she enjoyed seeing me like that. Weak and useless and <em> pathetic</em>.” </p><p>Chris’ skin crawls at the image. <em> God. Kate … Why?!  </em></p><p>Peter makes a little noise in the back of his throat, his anger disappearing as his former mask of indifference slips back in place. He looks at Chris consideringly. “You are so frail. It takes so little to kill you humans. Your suffering would be over so soon. Mine took six years. It is not fair. And it is no fun. I already killed two of Kate’s henchmen, and they died so fast, they barely screamed. I screamed my throat hoarse ...  Maybe, I should give you the bite. Maybe, I should watch you killing yourself. Maybe, your body will reject it and you will writhe on this chair for a few hours, until you cough up your own black blood ..." he stops, tilting his head and seemingly listen to something Chris can't hear. Eventually he sighs and shakes his head. "But that still won't take long<em> enough</em>, right ..."</p><p>Peter circles Chris’ chair, approaching one of the black walls and using a claw to draw a pattern into the lingering ash. “But then … you do have a daughter. And she has nothing to do with this. She is innocent. I know that. You know … Sometimes, my wolf doesn’t care about anything but mauling, tasting blood and feeling torn flesh. Something happened in those six years. The connection … I’m not always in control now. I guess I have lost everything close to an anchor. Rage and vengeance don’t really suit as anchors. They just cause more loss of control.”<br/>
<br/>
Peter turns back to Chris, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You were my anchor once. Before you told me you have to follow your bastard father and play your role like I have to play mine. For some stupid reason, I even feel calmer in your presence now. Calmer than I have felt for weeks. Isn’t it ironic.”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe,” Chris says quietly, his chest aching in echoes of a better past - a hopeful past, “Maybe I could be your anchor again. Maybe, I could help you. Maybe we could hunt Kate together. Prevent her from doing more damage. Maybe, we could bring balance to this mess. Maybe, you don’t have to lose control. Maybe, you can have a life again once this is finished. Maybe … we don’t have to end in blood.” </p><p>Peter stares at him. “These are a lot of maybes,” he says mildly, “but … I can’t sense a lie. Can’t sense that you are trying to talk yourself out of this. My wolf wants your blood now. My wolf can’t believe you are sincere. But … I think I do. Or maybe I want to believe. It would be nice to have something to live for after this is over.”<br/>
<br/>
“I am sincere,” Chris promises, knowing his heartbeat doesn’t falter at all. “Kate is trying to get Allison on her side. Is trying to form her into something she should never have to become. She went too far. She always went too far and I should have stopped her ages ago. I’ll do it now. Let me help, Pete.”<br/>
<br/>
Peter stares and Chris can see him thinking, the crease between his red eyes deepening. Time passes indifferently as Chris waits. Waits for life or death.<br/>
<br/>
After what could have been minutes or a whole hour, Peter’s eyes turn back to their blue. The blue Chris once loved to drown in. </p><p>Peter sighs and approaches Chris on the chair. Chris looks up, expectantly. Peter cups his face in one hand almost gently. Then, he uses the claws of his other hand to cut the ropes. Chris exhales. He didn’t even notice he held that breath. </p><p>Peter brings his face close to Chris’ ear and whispers, “Help me.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm taking prompts for whumptober, check out the post on my <a href="https://for-the-love-of-wolves.tumblr.com/post/630783606050209792/whumptober-begins-today-if-you-have-any-prompts">Tumblr</a><br/>:)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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